


deception and perfection

by Kaynara



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Drunk Sex, M/M, Non-Explicit Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7051609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaynara/pseuds/Kaynara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren's daemon is still unsettled. That should tell Hux everything he needs to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	deception and perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 Kylux Big Bang. Art by the incredible [pixiepunch](http://pixiepunch.tumblr.com), who made me possibly the happiest author alive.
> 
> Fic title is from Homewrecker by Marina and the Diamonds, which otherwise has absolutely nothing to do with this.

Hux knows what it says about Kylo Ren that his daemon is still unsettled. He's immature, conflicted, indecisive, unreliable. But most of all, he's _unpredictable_.

Not many people actually know that Ren’s daemon isn’t settled. They manage to control themselves perfectly in public in that regard, and Hux suspects the mental strain is at least partially to blame for Ren’s outbursts of rage. His daemon can't manifest them, so he has to use physical outlets for his emotions.

Ren's daemon stays constantly as a large, hulking grey beast from somewhere on the Outer Rim. The enormous lupine shape is enough to intimidate most of the officers into ignoring them, which Hux suspects is rather the point. He has no idea what species it is - only that it’s furred, dark grey and has a ridge of deadly looking spines running down its back. He’s not even sure it’s a real species.

Hux isn't sure that they’re aware that he knows. He had found out almost by accident. It's nowhere in their records, (though unusually, neither is the daemon’s name) and they keep almost perfect control. Almost.

Really, it could only ever have happened to him. The private meetings with Snoke were what first drew his attention to it.

Snoke’s voice had rung through the chamber, reprimanding Ren for some oversight during a reconnaissance mission into Resistance territory. He had been spotted, the Resistance had been alerted to his presence, and Ren was forced to fight his way out. Hux, in the deepest corners of his mind, had no idea why Snoke had ever thought Kylo Ren would be suitable for a stealth mission. Afterall, his weapon of choice was a glowing, spitting red sword made of plasma. Hux, for the most part, wasn't paying attention anymore. Ren was barely reacting to the verbal lashing, so any entertainment value was lost.  
  
He let his eyes wander, Eidothea curled around his neck lazily. There were meetings to schedule, reports to write, subordinates to discipline. He had a strong suspicion he had only been invited here to bear witness to Kylo Ren’s failure, to embarrass him. Which was something he did enjoy, but mostly when he was doing it himself.

“I pray that we do not see more of your father’s failures in you, Kylo Ren.” Snoke spat.

And just for a second, he saw the lupine shape of Ren’s daemon flicker and blur out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Only a lifetime of discipline stopped him from whipping his head around to stare at the pair. The temptation was almost irresistible and he might have given in anyway, had Eidothea not nipped at his collarbone discreetly. Hux remembered himself, and maintained his distant, bored expression.

He would have dismissed it as a trick of the light, a hallucination brought on by too much caf and too little sleep. There had been more than a few sleepless nights recently as Starkiller Base grew ever closer to completion. But Eidothea had seen it too, and he trusted her judgement over his every time.

Over the weeks to follow though, it happened again. Only a scant few times, and always in Snoke’s meetings, deniable and private.

 

* * *

 

Of course, after that, Kylo Ren and his daemon just became even more interesting. Daemons are the purest representation of a soul, the only way to truly know another person. The thought of someone lying both through and about their soul to everyone they ever meet is repellant. Disturbing, yet fascinating in equal measure.

After Hux has finished his paperwork for the evening, if it’s been a particularly strenuous or stressful day, he allows himself to grab a glass from his dwindling supply of Jogan fruit brandy. These days, the alcohol leads to him sitting at his desk and pondering what the true shape of Kylo Ren's soul might be.  
  
The fourth time it happens, Eidothea speaks up from the floor, her tone disdainful.  
  
"You're becoming obsessed." He can hear the judgement in her voice. She’s always seen through him, of course, but she doesn’t have the kindness to let him lie to himself. Not anymore. It’s helpful on occasion, but mostly just irritating.  
  
He tries to defend himself anyway, turns and glares at her, attempting to not let his discomfort show. "Don't be ridiculous." Hux hears her snort derisively, and he rolls his eyes at the ceiling.  
  
Her words don’t stop him though, and yet another tumbler of brandy has him leaning his head back and closing his eyes, trying to ascribe a shape to the enigma that is Kylo Ren. He barely knows the man, and yet he almost feels that with enough patience, he can work this out.  
  
He glances back over at her, seeing how she’s just as affected by the alcohol as he is, curling herself around his discarded shoes, her eyes slightly hazy. "Don't try to tell me you're not curious either, Eidothea."  
  
She ignores him, turning her head away, and he smirks. The brandy’s left his limbs loose and his voice a lazy drawl, his practiced Imperial accent slipping to the softer syllables of Arkanis.

"You must have some opinion. What do you think?”  
  
More silence. He rolls his eyes again at her stubbornness and turns away, until he feels a weight on his foot as she slithers up to her preferred position around his upper arm.  
  
"Not enough information to make a prediction." Her voice is stilted, almost robotic, in his ear. She gets like this sometimes. An after effect of their training at the Academy, he knows.

It pulls at his heart, a little. He misses the Eidothea from his childhood.

Then again, if he’s thinking it, she’s almost certainly wished the same of him, too.

 

* * *

 

When he is fifteen, the youngest Hux is called down to the Arkanis Academy hangar to meet with his father.

Commandant Hux strikes a forbidding silhouette against the bright lights, his panther daemon Cyra sitting quiet and calm beside him.

The younger Hux has enough time to process the sight of the two of them before Cyra darts forward quicker than he can see and grabs Eidothea in her jaws from where she had been pacing out as a small wolf.

Hux freezes in shock. Eidothea reacts immediately, shifting as quickly as she can to try and get away in her panic, without thinking.

 _Thea, no, we have to see what they want!_ His thought cry is as loud as he can make, instinctual, and he has no idea if she hears him. Either way, she stills a few moments later, becoming a smaller version of Cyra, trying to flatter her.

Cyra stalks back with Thea to his father’s side, who has only stood there impassively. Hux has a feeling they’ve already failed whatever test this is.

They’re far enough apart that Hux feels a twinge of discomfort, but they’ve already been trained enough to resist double this kind of distance. He’s not overly worried about that.

He’s wrong not to be.

At a nod from his father, Cyra turns and takes Eidothea towards a ship that’s waiting, ready to take flight. Hux steps forward in panic, his mind struggling to catch up to what he’s realising is the horrific reality of the situation. He'd always assumed his father was just one of those people who could stretch the bond with his daemon further than others. Strength of character, perhaps.

He doesn’t realise he’s tried to push past to get to Thea until his father’s hands are on his shoulders.

“No, please, you can’t- you can’t- we can’t, please, _please_.” He’s breaking down already, the pure primal fear of separation worse than anything he can imagine. The pain’s already pulling at his heart, and he can still feel the pressure of Cyra’s jaws clamped around Thea’s (his) neck.

There are soldiers around him now, holding him back as he thrashes, and he hears Thea screaming as some kind of bird, tearing herself up trying to get to him.

Hux is still babbling, pleading, sobbing, choking on his own tears and pain. He thinks for a moment he sees sympathy in his father’s eyes.

“You’ll see her again if you both survive your individual training.” With that, he turns on his heel and leaves, following the two daemons onto the ship.

The roar of the engines as the ship leapt out into space drowns out Hux’s screams of agony until he falls unconscious and is dragged to his quarters.

 

* * *

 

It’s two years before they are reunited again.

 

* * *

 

As soon as he sees her, it takes only one glance to realise she’s settled. Without him.

He bends down to his knees for her, watching her taste the air, wary of him. The thought brings tears to his eyes for a second before he blinks them back. People are watching.

Hux runs his eyes over her. She’s long and sleek, her scales a gorgeous rust red-brown vaguely reminiscent of his own hair. He thinks he knows what kind of snake she is. One renowned as a rampaging wave of destruction through foreign habitats, bending them and twisting them to suit itself. His mouth twists in a harsh smile. She’s perfect.

He holds his arm out, trying to be confident despite his sudden nerves, tries to break the tension. “You look good, Eidothea.”

She slithers forward and bumps her nose gently against his fingers. “You look old.”

Hux half laughs, half sobs, as she twines her way up his arm and around his neck, her weight heavy and right. They’re finally complete again.

 _Never again_ , they think to each other.

 

* * *

 

The fall of Starkiller Base changed everything. The unfortunate defection of a single Stormtrooper had seemed almost insignificant. Until, of course, it wasn’t.

Kylo Ren’s insinuations about the lack of a clone army were irritating beyond belief. The inherent failures with a clone army far outweighed the benefits of quick production. The lack of genetic diversity alone would make the First Order incredibly vulnerable to biological attack, and being able to specialise soldiers to their strengths was far more useful than legions of identical generalist soldiers.

Unfortunately, the fact that FN-2187 had been able to access the Resistance pilot, helped him escape, and then come into contact with seemingly the only other Force-sensitive in the system... It was bad luck more than anything. With hundreds of thousands of Stormtroopers within the Order, and only a 98% success rate for the mental conditioning techniques, something like this was inevitable.

It was simply frustrating that it had occurred on such a devastating scale.

 

* * *

 

After the oscillator fails, after he is sent to find Kylo Ren bleeding out in the snow with the ground shaking apart under his feet, and after they’re back aboard the nearest Upsilon shuttle, Hux watches Ren mumble to himself, lying half-conscious on the floor. His daemon is some great grey bloodstained bird now, draped across his chest and fluttering her broken wings every so often. Hux already regrets the future deaths of the Stormtroopers who have seen his daemon in a different form than the official one, but it’s unfortunately necessary, if wasteful.

Even now, Ren is causing difficulties.

Hux has managed to get in contact with Phasma, who was able to convey a semi-comprehensible picture of what happened in the oscillator, after hearing reports from her troops. It seems that there was a confrontation between Kylo Ren and a man claiming to be his father, which ended rather badly for the father.

Something had eased inside his chest, after hearing the Captain’s familiar tones struggle through the communicator. He can’t lose his closest ally as well.

Ren’s still muttering, though louder now, his words taking on almost tangible shapes in the air. Eidothea leans forward slightly, straining to hear.

“She had the Force on her side, the Force has chosen her, it’s on her side, it’s abandoned us-”

Hux makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. Weak. He half suspects, half hopes that between the patricide and this humiliating defeat, Ren’s pride will take a sharp knock. He might never be the same, he thinks optimistically.

“Give him a sedative. The strongest one you have.” He orders the medical droid, which whistles an affirmative and wheels forward. He’s not sure if there are usually medical droids on the Upsilon shuttles, or whether this one was just packed away as part of the evacuation, but he’s grateful for its presence either way.

Hux fights his way a few steps into the cockpit to see Starkiller begin the inevitable collapse, leaving Eidothea to watch over Ren. His heart sinks, to think of the wasted resources and time he poured into it. The sleepless nights poring over design schematics for flaws, the constant reassignments of materials, the hours pretending to listen to other people’s ideas in meetings.

Seven years of his life, wasted. Gone as if they had never happened. Thanks to a defective Stormtrooper and an unruly child.

Starkiller is self-destructing now, collapsing in on itself, consuming as much as it can before it explodes outward in a final burst of violent energy. He thinks of Ren’s broken, insensate form and can’t help but think there’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

_An unusually poetic thought, for you._

Eidothea’s thoughts appear in his head slowly, like she’s having to make a conscious effort to form them. Hux’s mouth twists into a fearsome approximation of a smile, with more teeth than necessary.

 _I think I can be permitted some melodrama, in light of recent developments,_ he thinks back, and feels her hiss in agreement. Her amusement is surface-level only, a paper-thin distraction sliding over a soul-deep pain that’s something like rage, something like grief. As soon as he’s felt it in her, he locates it in himself, lurking beneath the exhaustion, too large to comprehend.

“Locate the Finalizer and go to hyperspace as soon as you’ve got its coordinates,” He orders the pilot, who gives a nod and salutes him. He sees the blood smeared across the trooper’s armour and flicks an eye towards their wildcat daemon, which is cradling a broken leg but still looks back at him unflinchingly. Yes, it’s a pity that they’ll have to be decommissioned.

Hux walks unsteadily back to the room containing Kylo Ren, sinks into the small chair opposite, and contemplates his future, bleak as it is.

 

* * *

 

Once they return to the Finalizer, Hux stays with Ren only long enough to oversee his transfer into the medical facility.

The doctor takes a look at Ren’s daemon and visibly stills, her boar daemon backing away.

“A word to anybody about Lord Ren’s recent... change, and you will have a very short time to contemplate life in a breathable atmosphere.” Hux hopes that’ll be enough to keep her in line, for now.

As soon as he returns to his quarters, he taps out a message to Phasma.

_Troopers NL-1930 and NK-0235 require decommissioning as soon as possible. My apologies._

After that, he lays the datapad aside and sits on the side of his bed. Eidothea has been silent all day, wrapped tightly around his neck, rather than her usual position around his arm that she prefers. He allows a moment to push a feeling of curiosity at her, and finds it mentally thrown back at him. She’s keeping him out.

“It’s over,” she hisses at him instead, aloud, which is unusual. “Everything’s over. Snoke won’t allow this failure to stand. It’s our failure, we’re responsible.”

As usual, she’s voicing all of his worst fears, the ones he’s been struggling to keep down since he first saw the explosions in the oscillator.

“He’ll have Kylo Ren kill us. Choke us, or stab us with that lightsaber. He’ll enjoy it.”

Panic sets in, shredding his stomach and crawling up his throat. “Eidothea-”

“Or maybe he’ll set his daemon on me first. Tear me apart. I bet they’d like to watch you scream and beg for mercy.”

“Stop it,” he snaps, and she falls silent.

There’s a slight tremor in his fingertips now, and he pushes his hands together, watching them interlace and still, a facade of calm.

“We might still be useful to him. We’re the most recognisable public figure the Order has, which means we’re useful as a propaganda tool if nothing else.” His voice sounds lifeless, and Eidothea flicks her tongue out at him, dismissive.

There’s nothing to be done about it now. He thinks of Kylo Ren and his daemon in the bacta tank, that newly formed scar stretching across his face, and feels sick.

The only reasonable course of action seems to be his remaining brandy.

 

* * *

 

After he gets back to the bridge of the Finalizer for the first time since Starkiller’s loss, his hangover lurking behind his eyes like a particularly painful shadow, Hux finds that the atmosphere is subdued, more than he had expected. It’s beyond depressing.

With a lack of any current goal other than to make their way to Snoke’s base of operations, there’s still thirty hours that he has to contemplate any kind of plan that could save their skins. Eidothea has placed herself in a small indentation in his command panels, specifically designed for daemons. He looks her over, admiring for a moment the brown-orange colours of her scales. He’s seen holos of forests in autumn, the dying leaves fading to a similar rusty hue.

_Would it kill you to think of something other than death for half a moment?_

Hux grimaces in answer, turns away to look out at the viewport. Behind him, he hears a whispered confrontation from the consoles. He gives it ten seconds, and slowly turns on his heel. It’s Lieutenant Yetar, and she’s engaged in a frantic argument with her armadillo daemon, trying to shush him, from the looks of it.

It’s unusual, to say the least. In such a high ranking environment, most people are controlled enough that daemons are very rarely an issue. Eidothea, as usual, feels a combination of superiority and pity towards the poorly behaved daemon.

Hux holds his arm out for Eidothea without looking, who wraps herself around his wrist immediately and hangs there, baring her fangs briefly in irritation. His boots click loudly against the floor as he paces closer to the lieutenant’s console, and he feels a jolt of satisfaction as she freezes up at the sound, her daemon finally falling silent.

“Is there a problem here, Lieutenant?” His voice is low, and faux comforting.

To her credit, she meets his eyes firmly, only the slightest drain of colour from her olive skin.

“No, sir. I’m just re-calculating the optimum hyperdrive route to the Citadel.”

“You seem of two minds about it.” _Keep the tone light, she’s probably still competent. One disagreement means nothing._

“My apologies, sir. I-”

He sighs and holds up a hand to cut her off, and moves his head to better look at the monitor.

“Use route 17A. Less chance of Resistance interference. We lost too many on Starkiller for a battle with them now.”

The headache is still there as he steps away, and his mouth presses into a cold line once more. He thinks of Starkiller again, and how it had looked as it disintegrated. Those thoughts lead inevitably to the Resistance scum that had took it all away and those lead to the traitorous FN-2187.

Bloody crescents lie under his nails when he brings them up to quickly examine them. His gloves are still lying on his desk in his quarters, after his hangover had made him almost late for the start of his shift.

A mental suggestion from Eidothea has him tilting his head slightly. They shouldn’t. They really shouldn’t. It’s an abuse of power, it’s a waste of resources, and it’s almost certainly a desire borne out of not enough sleep and too much stress.

Striding back to the bridge, he brings up his message channel with Phasma and sends out the politest request he can, lips drawn back in a smile that’s skirting madness.

 

* * *

 

The Stormtrooper, Captain Phasma tells him, is designated TI-8251. He’s an average Stormtrooper, performing passably in the combat simulations. In his squad, he’s known as Knots, after some unimportant incident involving non-regulation uniform.

Luckily for Hux, he bears more than a passing resemblance to FN-2187. They could even be related, but he hasn’t bothered to check the genetic database. It doesn’t matter.

TI-8251’s daemon is a small, light grey canine who cowers where she’s restrained next to him. Her pain tolerance is lower than his, he discovers, as he clinically watches the torture droid slice through layers of muscle and fat, and listens to her scream.

After half an hour, he calls the droid out and steps into the room himself. The Stormtrooper’s head lolls, eyes glazed over and shaking. The daemon is curled in on herself, legs rubbed raw from where she’s strained at the manacles to get to her human. Hux hears Eidothea scoff in his mind. _Pathetic_ , she murmurs to him silently.

They still haven’t realised he’s in there, and he steps closer still, enough to feel the almost feverish heat coming from the Stormtrooper’s body. He’s been stripped down to the regulation black undergarments, most of which is now torn and bloody thanks to the droid.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Hux asks, reaching up to grasp the trooper’s chin firmly and turn it towards himself. There’s a cold slickness under his hands, a mix of sweat and tears and blood and spit. It’s a good few seconds before those dark eyes manage to focus on him. There’s no answer forthcoming, though.

Hux feels the impatience mix in with his slow burning anger and shakes the trooper again. “I said-”

“No!” The outburst comes not from the dazed body in front of him, but from its daemon, and he turns towards her.

The troopers and their daemons share designation numbers, as a way of keeping them depersonalised. He looks at daemon TI-8251 and raises an eyebrow, releasing his grasp on her human’s chin. A swift glance downwards, and he sees the dark maroon shine of blood mix with the clear stickiness of saliva over his fingers. A shiver runs through him, and he wipes it off on the trooper’s clothes without looking, drawing another whimper of pain.

Attention now, on the daemon, and he steps forward. “You do know it’s incredibly rude to speak directly to another human, yes?” His voice is silken, inviting despite the implicit threat in his words.

She nods in a kind of hypnotized terror that reminds him of the failing cadets back at the Arkanis Academy. They had all been broken in time, too.

Silently, Eidothea moves forward to the other daemon, catching her gaze and holding it as she moves closer. The corner of Hux’s lip twitches up slightly as he watches her.

Her strike is sudden and the strangled cry that breaks free of TI-8251 - both of them - is more gratifying than he’d want to admit to anybody else.

Hux steps back towards a ledge, picks up a finely serrated knife and weighs it in his hand for a moment. They haven’t indulged themselves like this for a long time.

Best to enjoy it while it lasts.

 

* * *

 

After three hours with the Stormtrooper, he steps out of the interrogation room and waves a hand over his shoulder.

“Get rid of that,” he says dismissively to the two guards waiting outside, and heads away down the hall before they can move. He can feel the dried blood on his face cracking and Eidothea, curled loosely around his neck, is even worse off.

He’s looking forward to a real shower for once, instead of the sonics. He deserves it, after dealing with Ren for months and for not doing anything stupid after Starkiller was blown up, like jump out of the nearest airlock.

On his way through his quarters to the refresher, a soft beep from his comm indicates a message from Phasma. Hux feels a pang of guilt about the remains of the Stormtrooper he’s just left behind, but he brings the message up anyway.

_Kylo Ren removed from bacta tank, sedatives wearing off already. Will probably be mobile soon. Thought you’d appreciate the warning._

The message was sent an hour and a half ago. He’d be surprised if Ren’s not already stalking round, even more bad tempered than usual from the bacta withdrawal.

Tapping out a short message of acknowledgement to Phasma takes no more than a few seconds, and then he steps through to the refresher.

Eidothea is almost asleep around his neck, content from the violence she considers stress relief. Her sleepiness weighs on him too, and he briefly considers foregoing the shower and falling straight into his bed, bloody clothes and all. It’s tempting for a moment, but then he’s managed to get the shower on and it seems like a waste to ignore it. The sound of running water seems to revive his daemon, at least, and she lowers herself to the floor carefully before slinking in.

He shrugs out of his uniform, unceremoniously dropping it on the floor and kicking it out of the way. There’s a time for neatness, and it’s certainly not now, with the blood of a dead man sticking his eyelashes together. His boots are similarly discarded and he steps into the shower, narrowly avoiding stepping on Eidothea.

The rush of the water fills his ears as he tips his head back and exhales in gratitude. Eyes closed, he can almost imagine for a second that they’re back on Arkanis, warm summer rain pouring down around them.

 _Stop that._ Thea, as usual, refusing to let him be dragged into the honeyed trap of nostalgia.

Hux opens his eyes instead, and watches the maroon wash off her scales and disappear down the drain.

 

* * *

 

From what he understands of the Force, from Snoke’s insinuations and Ren’s gloats and the few old whisperings he’d heard growing up, Hux thinks it’s like the mental connection between person and daemon, but with the entire universe. His entire being shakes just considering it. It’s the refrain that he used to repeat to himself, over and over, while he silently seethed, watching Ren tear apart yet another communications station, or training droid, or holoprojector.

It doesn’t explain, of course, the way that Ren seems able to manipulate gravity and magnetism and the basic laws of the universe itself, how he can turn air into something that feels solid and real.

There is some vital link between daemons and the Force - only species with daemons have the potential for Force sensitivity. He suspects Kylo Ren would know more, but the thought of lowering himself to the point of asking the Knight for more information is repellant.

Despite this supposedly all-powerful Force on his side, Ren failed on Starkiller. It’s not enough anymore for Hux to hope to manipulate both it and Ren in ignorance.

And, well. He has a bit of time left to kill before they make it to Snoke.

Years ago, when he had been still a Captain, only two years out of the Academy, he had come into possession of an old Imperial data core. Well. He had stolen it from a commanding officer and then slit her throat without properly knowing what it was.

It had been worth it.

Locked away under layers upon layers of encryptions were records, dating back through the Empire, to the Old Republic and further. Battle plans, strategies created by Emperor Palpatine himself. Then, buried deeper, documents written in some bizarre language that he couldn’t find any translations of at the time.

Now, having had Ren and his blasted Knights brought more to his attention, Hux suspects they’re old Sith doctrines.

He’s kept up his habit of hacking and decryption, which comes in useful against the Resistance. And he knows that since Kylo Ren started living on the Finalizer, he’s made his own uploads to the holonet.

Sure enough, after he hacks into Ren’s personal databanks, he finds more documents, different to his, no doubt personally selected by Snoke to give a very narrow view of the Sith. They’re in the same incomprehensible language but luckily, they’re stored alongside translations into Basic.

A smile breaks slowly across his face. Without Ren and his Vader obsession, who knows if he’d have ever managed to get these files.

Hux sets a program running to begin analysing the translations and comparing with the original text, setting up an automatic translation system which he hopes will be sufficient to purpose.

While it works, he busies himself with the endless barrage of emails that have come through in the wake of Starkiller - old Imperial families from the Core expressing their disdain, their support, all of them trying to manipulate him for more power of their own. He’s pretty sure they think they’re being _subtle_ about it.

It drains him more than he’d like, even just replying in text format - the endless traditions and polite rituals that they use to communicate with each other. He grew up on the Rim, far from the glowing Core and this pretend show of politics, and every second he’s forced to interact with this so-called nobility he feels out of place.

Unfortunately, their money and power is necessary to the First Order, to keep their banners flying and fighting against the New Republic that was, and now the Resistance. Hux grits his teeth and dictates yet another message full of simpering praise, his pride crushed beneath his own heel.

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, his datapad beeps at him. The translation program has finished running, and is ready to be applied to his files. It’s the work of a moment to upload his most promising text.

He reads slowly, unable to comprehend what he’s found. They’re ancient, at least two millennia old, speaking of a time before the famed Rule of Two. For a while, there is only mysterious codes speaking of embracing passion and such. He reads on, getting more confused by all the oblique references to the Force, wondering if he can ever hope to understand.

Skipping a large chunk of the text, he finds a section which mentions daemons, and goes back to the top of the paragraph.

_For members of the Sith Order who break, or show inexcusable weakness, or a desire to betray the cause, there is a method of removing the Force bond between individual and daemon, leaving behind an obedient shell with no Force sensitivity. This ritual is known as intercision._

On his shoulder, Eidothea hisses sharply, her initial shock turning rapidly to excitement and hope as she understands, quicker than he does.

_It could solve everything- as long as we figured out the initial problems- There’s precedent, there’s no way it’s impossible. If we got Ren to help us, the Force-_

He meets her eyes wildly. This was mental conditioning of the highest degree. Immediately effective, and from what he’s reading, irreversible.

Some part of him balks at the unnatural, taboo thought of removing somebody’s daemon, but he ignores its whisperings - the Stormtroopers are barely people anyway. This would only cement that, and remove his problems at the same time.

If he pushes this through, the Stormtrooper conditioning will never fail again.

 

* * *

 

Hux is back on the bridge the next day, barely focusing on the usual flurry of memos and meetings, his mind consumed with the required materials for modern day intercision. From what he could grasp of the old documents, the Force was barely necessary, but he had never even heard of some of the metals needed for the separation blade.

Captain Phasma's heavy footsteps jolt him from his thoughts and he turns, meeting her gaze steadily. Valberg, slowly crawling up after her, makes a nod to Eidothea, his claws scratching and tapping the polished floor. Eidothea flicks her tongue out at him in acknowledgement from her usual position twined around Hux’s left bicep.  
  
Phasma's helmet is gone, and her expression is one of tightly controlled fury.

In terms of temperament, Hux would put her somewhere between himself and Ren. Her emotions boil slightly further under the surface then Ren's, and she has far more control than he does. Her anger is usually taken out on training droids rather than expensive consoles - just one of many reasons Hux favors her company.

Since the loss of Starkiller, though, she has been more on edge. He knows the Captain had hoped to dispose of the traitorous FN-2187 herself, and suspects the evidence of failure within her ranks has rattled her more than she would like to admit.

“Kylo Ren,” she starts, her words laced with venom, before she collects herself and takes a breath. Hux empathises.

“ _Lord Ren_ has killed three of my Stormtroopers today.”

Hux inhales sharply in surprise. Ren had never before actually killed any personnel onboard the Finalizer, or Starkiller, although most of the officers were convinced he killed anyone who looked at him wrong, like Vader before him. He’d choked unconscious many of the younger officers (Hux had heard that it had become almost an initiation ritual) and maimed a couple more, but never outright killed anybody.

It was true that Stormtroopers weren’t an infinite resource, but the more pressing issue was that he didn’t need Phasma and Ren at each other’s throats. He had no doubt at all who would come out of that fight better off. Force or no Force, Hux didn’t want to have to explain to Snoke why his favourite pupil was missing limbs.

“I’ll speak to him personally,” he says tightly, nodding to the Captain and ready to turn away.

Apparently it isn’t enough for her, because Valberg snarls and snaps his teeth at them.

Contrary to daemons usually being a voice of reason, from what he knows of Valberg, he suspects the opposite is true for Phasma. Hux has no idea what they’d rather he do. As much as he’d love to get Ren dismissed from the Finalizer, or even better, kicked discreetly out of an airlock, he somehow doubts the Supreme Leader would be impressed.

In response, he turns back, slowly, locking eyes with her, despite the inches she has on him. Hux respects her more than he does most people, but he won’t let her fury over her troopers be an excuse to question his command.

Eidothea slides to the floor to draw herself before Valberg in a zigzag of a threat display, hissing and baring her rear fangs. It’s more theatrical than she usually goes for, but with these two it’s probably necessary.

Valberg snarls once more and looks away, as Phasma clears her throat and inclines her head respectfully towards them.

“You’re dismissed, Captain.”

The idea of punishing Ren for killing Stormtroopers seemed immensely hypocritical now, after his own treatment of TI-8251. But TI had been _allocated_ to him, there had been procedure, it hadn’t been a mindless act of rage. Hux had gone through the necessary steps and minimised the waste.

Ren had just acted without thinking, no doubt.

 

* * *

 

That evening, Hux sends Kylo Ren a message through a private messaging channel, requesting a meeting. He doesn’t get a reply, so he chooses to take it as Ren sulking, and that the meeting is fine. He knows Ren doesn’t have anything he’ll be doing at that time.

Hux makes his way to Ren’s quarters a couple of minutes early, admiring with a curl of satisfaction in his throat the way officers and Stormtrooper patrols alike snap to attention as he sweeps past, various daemons flitting into a position of formality next to them.

Eidothea is tense, having stewed over Phasma’s words since their meeting. Now he’s not distracted by paperwork and delegations, he allows her to share with him her simmering fury, feels the heat race up his arms as his fists clench.

Briefly, he sees himself putting his hands between that ridiculous mask and the tattered cape, and squeezing until the squirming stops.

“You’re so bloodthirsty these days, Eidothea,” he says to her in an undertone, voice laced with a slight smile.

She shifts to look at him, bumping her head against his neck. _That fantasy was all yours, I’m afraid._ He feels her pride and appreciation, a rare mental warmth, and he flinches away from it, nails scrabbling at his palms.

Her coils tighten on his arm in response and she draws her head away.

They’re in front of Ren’s quarters now. Hux raises his hand to the control pad, not bothering to request entrance when he knows he’ll be denied, and instead skips straight to his manual override code.

The door hisses open, and Hux steps inside.

He’s never been inside Ren’s quarters before. His first impression is of emptiness, and a clinical smell in the air that reminds him of the first day he’d stepped onto the newly built Finalizer. It’s less welcoming than even his own quarters are, which is saying something. Everything is shades of black, and the lights are dim. He has to strain his eyes for a few seconds to make out Ren’s shape across the room.

“Lights to seventy percent,” he snaps, and suppresses a growl when nothing happens.

“They’re keyed to my voice only, General.”

That electronic, scrambled voice scratches over his mind. He’s wearing the helmet in his own quarters, alone. It’s almost disturbing, the way Ren seems to want to disappear inside of this theatrical costume.

“If I have the power to force an entrance to your quarters, surely the light levels are no matter?”

Beside him, Ren’s daemon shifts in a way that’s undoubtedly threatening. In the near darkness, it’s akin to the shadows themselves swaying toward him. Despite that, Ren’s voice stays calm.

“There are delicacies that you wouldn’t understand, General. The Force-”

Hux cuts him off sharply. “I don’t want to hear it, Ren.”

The lupine shape at Ren’s feet does openly growl at that, and he practically feels Ren’s anger. There’s definitely something white hot and flaring in his mind, but he can’t tell whether it’s his own anger, or Ren’s projected through the Force.

“I spoke with Captain Phasma today. She tells me that you have deemed it necessary to begin slaughtering our own troops.”

Eidothea shifts to stare at the dark shape on the floor. Hux isn’t sure how Ren will react to her posturing in private, there’s been rarely any need for it. Their disputes are, much to his chagrin, usually out in the open on the bridge, or in the corridors, but always with witnesses. The only times they’re closest to alone are their meetings with the Supreme Leader, and neither wants to embarrass themselves with their petty fights in front of him.

Despite that, Hux can’t help but feel that Snoke knows everything they do. Sometimes he feels an insidious tendril of darkness creeping through his mind, invasive and personal, while he’s trying to sleep at nights. At his most vulnerable. He’s almost certain it’s Snoke.

Ren doesn’t react to his implied question and continues to stand motionless. Hux feels himself losing what little remains of his patience and steps forward.

“ _Ren-_ ”

“Quiet.”

Hux feels his mouth slam shut of its own accord, feels a burst of pain as his teeth cut into his tongue. There’s a flood of copper almost immediately. Eidothea hisses loudly and makes as if to launch herself to the floor, but Ren’s hand makes a tiny movement in the shadows and she freezes.

Immobilised in his body, Hux feels the rage he’s been attempting to suppress wash over him, strong enough that his hands spasm as they try futilely to clench into fists. The strength of the broadcasted emotion gets the attention of Ren’s daemon, which pads closer to them, fur unkempt and sticking up on end. As it nears, Hux thinks he can smell her, a stench of burnt fur and blood. He wonders briefly if it’s as fake as the form she pretends to own.

“Leader Snoke wants to see us both, immediately.”

Hux feels the invisible control on his body disappear, and staggers. Eidothea drops herself to the floor and slithers forward, snapping her fangs at Ren’s daemon. The beast snarls back, but pads away to Ren.

A moment later, his comm chimes with the tone that he’s set for all communications with the Supreme Leader. Ren isn’t lying.

Hux takes a breath, with half a mind to just try and put a blaster bolt through Ren’s head. His hand twitches towards his blaster for a second before he clenches his fist and forces himself into parade stance.

“I’m not one of your punching bags to take your anger out on, _Lord Ren._ I don’t care what you do to the junior officers, but I am your equal, and I deserve to be treated as such. No matter your personal feelings on the matter.” The words are forced out between gritted teeth. If it wasn’t for the fact that they have to go to see the Supreme Leader now, he’s sure he would have given in and launched a punch.

Ren stops, surprisingly, since he seems to usually pay less attention to Hux’s requests than he does to the cleaning droids.

“Personal feelings?” The modulator flattens his words out so it’s impossible to tell what he’s implying with the tone.

Hux glances towards Ren’s daemon but it’s too dark still to pick out body language. Eidothea slithers back and wraps herself around his leg, annoyingly. He bends down slightly, and she latches onto his arm and then positions herself inside his right sleeve, mostly hidden from outside view.

“I know you don’t particularly respect my position as commander of this vessel. But you could at least keep it professional.” His voice doesn’t waver, trying to portray the certainty that he should be feeling.

A pause. “I’ll try my best, General.”

With that, Ren sweeps out of his quarters into the corridor, and Hux hurries to catch up. The permanently lit corridor is blinding for a moment, metal shining from every surface.

The anger is still swirling in him, made worse by the fact that Ren now conveniently has gotten out of the speech he had planned for Ren’s carelessness with the soldiers.

“You seem recovered after your defeat on Starkiller Base, Lord Ren.” The accusation has more bite to it than normal. It’s probably unwise to start an argument on the way to the Supreme Leader, but he can’t stop himself.

Ren visibly reacts, fists clenching at his sides. Hux raises an eyebrow, and Eidothea nips at his wrist at the lack of control, still hidden up his sleeve. Ren recovers quickly though, and fires back.

“No thanks to your pilots and soldiers, who were completely unable to prevent the rebels from gaining access to the oscillator. I believe even Captain Phasma herself was easily dispatched.”

Hux seethes.

“Don’t pretend you did any better. The Master of the Knights of Ren, embarrassed by a single scavenger girl that managed to escape from your personal custody and leave you permanently scarred.”

Loping alongside Ren, his daemon bristles. Those dark spines glint in the artificial brightness, garishly dangerous. Designed for show more than anything else, like so much of Ren’s carefully cultivated persona.  
  
They finally come to the chamber designated for meetings with Snoke onboard the Finalizer. It’s less impressive than the one built on Starkiller, little more than an exceptionally tall conference room, with plasteel in place of the old stone.

Their footsteps fall into sync for a few seconds before they halt. The motion sensors in the room will have sent a signal to Snoke signifying their arrival, and sure enough, moments later the hologram flickers into view.

Snoke doesn’t much care for over done, simpering displays of servitude, so Hux cuts to the chase, or at least he attempts to.

“Supreme Leader, I would like to-”

“Silence, General.” Snoke’s voice is loud, but calmer than Hux had been expecting. His disturbingly large scarab beetle daemon is motionless on his shoulder. “Your failure on Starkiller Base has been noted. Do not bother trying to lessen your part in it.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” Eidothea finally comes out of his sleeve to twine around his wrist and fingers instead and he spreads his hand out automatically, bearing her weight. He continues, trying not to seem rattled.

“I have a proposal for a new method for conditioning the Stormtroopers. I firmly believe it will never again allow another defection like FN-2187 to occur.”

Snoke tilts his head forward as Kylo Ren huffs, presumably in amusement or doubt. The helmet makes it impossible to tell.

“I suggest that we look into a large-scale application of intercision.” His mouth feels like it wants to trip over the words, but he forces them out.

A burst of static bursts from Ren on his left, and Hux looks down in time to see Ren’s daemon back away from them, spitting. Snoke doesn’t look surprised.

“How did you learn about this technique, General?”

“Private files in my possession that I was only recently able to make use of.” The less he can say without lying, the better.

“You will require the help of Kylo Ren for this task.”

Hux suppresses a sigh. He had been hoping, somehow, that he wouldn’t end up shackled to Ren for his project, that the Supreme Leader would present a more agreeable Force sensitive while Ren was taken far away to complete his training.

As if in answer, Snoke continues.

“Kylo Ren’s training can wait, for now. Investigating and applying this is your new priority, General.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“Go, continue your research.”  
  
The dismissal stings, but there’s a part of Hux that recognises he’s lucky to have gotten away, so far, with no punishment for Starkiller Base, so he turns swiftly on his heel and heads out.

As he reaches the door, Snoke’s voice rumbles as he turns his attention on Kylo Ren.

“You seem disturbed, my apprentice.”

It closes behind him and Hux allows himself to relax minutely, leaning against the door for half a second before he heads to his office.

He has a machine to design. Sleep can come later.

 

* * *

 

In contrast to the dreaded whisperings of the Supreme Leader, Hux has only felt Ren force his way into his mind once. It was after a meeting with Snoke, a few months before Starkiller had been completed, and for once they had been dismissed together. Ren had cornered him in the corridor, practically pushed him against the wall and hissed in his face wearing that ridiculous mask, “Your plan isn’t going to work.”

Eidothea had snapped her fangs in his face and the mask had withdrawn slightly, evidently startled by her naked disrespect.

“Get the hell off me, you _child_.” Hux had straightened off the wall, pushing forward back into Ren’s space.

“Until the moment you can tell me, without referring to any mysticism or gut feelings, that you have concrete evidence why my meticulously crafted strategy to win back this planet will fail, I refuse to listen to you.” His voice was loud, too loud in the quiet corridor. He heard footsteps pause and then retreat behind a corner. Most likely a Stormtrooper patrol.

“I suggest that-”

“I don’t care what you might _suggest_ , Lord Ren.” Hux’s head was practically swimming with irritation and fatigue. When was the last time he’d slept?

Eidothea swayed where she was still outstretched to Ren, and Hux put his hand out and tucked her back around his neck, almost earning an annoyed nip for his troubles.

_I was fine._

_I know._

Suddenly, Hux felt an intrusion in his head. There was no subtlety, no grace to it. One moment they were alone, the next, Ren and his daemon were smashing through their mind without respect for anything.

Hux mentally scrambled to find his bearings, somehow feeling Ren pawing hurriedly through his recent memories. There was a sensation of agonising tearing and he bit back a pained cry.

“Those are private, you bastard.” His voice sounded more hoarse than angry, like his mental efforts were taking themselves out on his body.

The presence was suddenly gone and he sagged back against the wall again.

“You’re exhausted, General. Perhaps you’re not thinking too clearly. It’s a risk to the mission.” Ren, damn him, sounded completely unaffected by what he’d just done.

This couldn’t be allowed to stand. Hux felt his face settle into the coldest glare he could summon. The kind that usually preceded a subordinate never being heard from again.

“You will never enter my mind again. You will not question my strategic ability again. And you will certainly never again imply that I am not capable of doing my job.” His voice was quiet, and low, and laced with as much venom as it ever had been.

He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, and swept away down the corridor.

It took him only a few minutes to reach his quarters. He had stepped immediately to the refresher and was violently sick.

When the mission report came back three days later, three quarters of their soldiers were dead, but the planet had been taken. No matter what Ren said, no matter how Phasma avoided him for three days, he was taking that as a win.

 

* * *

 

It proves to be much harder to design a fully functional, modern day machine from vague, thousands of years old descriptions in a old magic book than Hux had hoped. Eventually, he gives in and requests Lieutenant Mitaka, who he already knows has a background in engineering and, more to the point, can be trusted to keep his mouth shut about what’s going on.

After arriving in his office and listening intently for about an hour, Mitaka nods vigorously when asked if he’s up to the challenge. His daemon, Tie (which, Hux is sure has a longer, more professional name) bounces around excitedly on his shoulder, fluttering her green-blue wings.

The biggest problem in the construction of the intercision chambers come from the metals needed for the blade. In order for the Force bond between person and human to be completely severed without a Force user there for every procedure, the blade has to be completely forged from the Force suppressing metal erkinite, which is almost impossible to find.

From his old Imperial data core, though, it seems Palpatine had been in the habit of commissioning various erkinitic baubles, though few of them seemed to have any practical use from what Hux could tell. He had ordered them from the Entralla Engineers Collective, which had more recently been folded into the Kuat-Entralla Engineering Corporation, which, fortunately the First Order already has strong links with. The Finalizer was only the first of the Resurgent-class Star Destroyers, and Kuat-Entralla had seemed very eager to be the one to supply them.

Less luckily, the business is renowned for only conducting business in person, which means Hux has to go, as there’s nobody else he trusts to do it for him, and Kylo Ren has to accompany him. Officially as a bodyguard, but mostly so he can check that they’re not being given fake erkinite.

Hux sends a quick report to Snoke, keeping him abreast of the situation. Only half an hour later, his datapad chimes with a reply, giving the go-ahead on the mission.

 

* * *

 

When he arrives in the hangar, he groans to see an Upsilon-class waiting, primed for the journey. The elegant ship is the one most used for shuttling command staff around, but as he remembers the last time he was in one, he realises he’d rather go in almost anything else. At this point, he’d take a TIE fighter.

Also, it’s not exactly the most subtle of ships. The retractable wings are instantly recognisable to anybody with a passing knowledge of the First Order’s fleet, and Hux knows there’s bound to be Resistance sympathisers on Kuat.

“There’s a HWK-190 light freighter in hangar seven.” The computerised voice behind him sends an apprehensive shiver through him. “I can fly it.”  
  
That does surprise him, and Hux turns on his heel to stare Kylo Ren in the eye. Or to attempt to, at least.

“What’s the required crew?”

“Just two people, General.”

“Then by all means, lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

Their takeoff had been silent, as Ren proved that he did know how to fly such an old model, which was intriguing. They’ve been in hyperspace for an hour now, course set and locked, allowing them some measure of freedom in the small ship.

Ren stands behind the controls, before the viewport, his silhouette blocking out the stars and leaving a dark hole in the shape of a man. _Fitting_ , Hux thinks dryly, until Eidothea nips his neck.

_You don’t really think that uncontrolled mess of a man is a void._

Hux tilts his head towards her, thinking about it. His thoughts wander back to those adrenaline-fuelled hours after the destruction of Starkiller, how he had first likened Ren to the dying planet below. It rang more true than this comparison, certainly.

A supernova, almost. A messy explosion formed from the death of a stable star, self-destructing in order to attempt any kind of larger effect on anything nearby.  

Eidothea bares her fangs in satisfaction when she feels his reluctant admittance that she’s right. Ignoring her, Hux clears his throat, and watches Ren twitch his head in some kind of acknowledgement.

“We will arrive in twenty minutes, Lord Ren. I trust you don’t need to be reminded that this mission requires _tact_.”

Ren visibly bristles, his daemon turning and hunching forward with fur stood on end. Even with his helmet on, he’s practically broadcasting his thoughts for everybody to see. Eidothea was correct, he’s anything but a void.

“I’ve visited these businesses before, General. I hope _you_ will do a satisfactory job of making deals with these predators.”

 

* * *

 

Kuat is a bustling industrial planet, little more than an overgrown manufacturing plant with its own atmosphere. Hux is tempted to send Ren off to see if he can find any information on Resistance vessels being constructed in the area, but considering his track record with subtlety, decides against it.

“Headquarters shouldn’t be far from here,” he mutters instead. Ren gives a small sharp nod to show that he’s heard, and nothing else. He’s dressed, ridiculously, in his full battle regalia, helmet and all.

Ren leads them through the crowd to a short, squat building that looks far too run down to be associated with Kuat-Entralla. Paint is splattered haphazardly over the outside and Hux starts to wonder if they’ve come to the wrong place after all, but the sign on the door confirms they’re correct.

Ren gestures to the door with a sardonic wave, and a mocking bow. Hux resists the urge to roll his eyes and passes through before him, his attempt at seeming unimpressed completely ruined by Eidothea glaring all the while.

The receptionist, a bored looking Togruta, looks up eagerly as he enters. His daemon is beside him in a water tank, some species of fish completely unidentifiable to Hux, but small and drab. The receptionist holds up a hand before he can speak, and starts searching for something on his desk, eventually finding a small, battered datapad that looks about ten years out of date. He taps the screen, frowns down at it momentarily, and taps it again, harder, before his dark blue skin pales dramatically.

“General Hux of the First Order?” The Togruta’s enthusiasm seems to have shrivelled up since he’s realised who he’s dealing with.

“Indeed. And guest,” he adds generously as he hears Ren enter. A moment later, Hux feels a slight pressure on the back of his greatcoat as Ren presses in closely behind him. His mind reels in confusion at the unexpected proximity, and a second later the warmth behind him is gone.

In front of him, the receptionist seems to be recovering.

“My name is Merine Korbin and it’s my pleasure to welcome you to the _temporary-_ ” Hux’s eyebrow quirks up. “-business office of Kuat-Entralla Engineering Corporation. You have a scheduled meeting with one of our sales advisors tomorrow, and in the meantime we’ve arranged accommodation for you and your…”

He trails off uncertainly, looking between them. Hux keeps his face blank.

“...Guest.” Choosing the word Hux himself had used before was probably wise. Merine places a small drive on the desk in front of him, and Hux steps forward to pick it up, twisting it between his fingers as he examines it.

“Directions and access codes to your accommodation, details of tomorrow’s meeting, as well as complimentary files about Kuat-Entralla’s most exciting new projects.”

“Thank you, Merine.” His voice is icy, and he watches the secretary swallow nervously with satisfaction.

Hux turns on his heel and walks out of the door, not waiting for Ren to catch up.

 

* * *

 

They’re assigned a living space in a nearby hotel, which is a fifteen minute journey away via a rickety speeder they’re given use of. Another complimentary offer, it seems. It’s a self-contained set of quarters, two beds, refresher, the whole works. After they get back, Ren begins pacing, energy rolling off him as his daemon is frozen to the spot with tension.

After five minutes, Hux looks up from his datapad and sighs.

“You do realise I already know she’s unsettled. You can change form however much you’d like.” The cutting tone gets Ren’s attention, and he snarls, whether because somebody knows his secret or because he doesn’t want attention brought to it is impossible to tell.

His daemon, though, releases her strangely lupine form immediately for a loth-bat, fluttering to a space above Hux’s head and staring down at him. He ignores her. Eidothea rolls her eyes.

After that, Ren seems somewhat unsure of what to do with himself, and sits on the opposite bed as his daemon flashes between forms every minute or so, too quickly for Hux to bother observing them all. A thump a few seconds later tells him that the ridiculous helmet has finally been removed.

There has been something bothering him, though.

Eidothea grumbles at him mentally, and he sends back an image of himself shrugging. The old courtesy of not speaking directly to someone else’s daemon still stands. She moves to the end of the bed and catches the other daemon’s eye where she’s currently a large crow. The blue-green shimmer of her feathers in the low lighting is lovely, and he lets himself admire it through Eidothea’s eyes for a moment.

The bird hops closer to the snake. Quietly, Hux moves his datapad so he has a line of view to Ren. The man’s sitting on his bed still, fixated on the two daemons moving closer and closer.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” says Eidothea, faux polite, once the other daemon is close enough. Considering the silence in the room, the pretense of letting her get close so as to speak privately seems almost cruel. Hux mentally sighs in exasperation.

_You could have asked yourself._

_Fuck you,_ he thinks back, viciously, and sees Ren’s head tilt out of the corner of his eye.

The bird daemon shivers and is instantly another snake, mimicking Eidothea, but this one is larger and patterned black and white in a clear cut way that makes Hux think of the Stormtroopers.

“Mari.” The other daemon- Mari’s voice is overly disinterested, a contrast to Ren’s intent gaze.

“Eidothea,” she hisses in return, obviously put out by the one word answer.

There’s silence in the room after that. Eidothea and Mari engage in some kind of staring contest, flicking their tongues out at each other to gauge the tension every few moments.

“How long have you known?” Ren’s voice interrupts his work just as he has sunk back into the calming focus of calculating the differential costs for the slightly different designs Mitaka has come up with for the intercision machine.

“Hmm?” The irritation laces his voice. Of course Ren can’t let him be for even five minutes. He’s so used to being the center of attention all the time that he doesn’t know how to live without the spotlight.

“About us being unsettled.” That voice is calm, but dark. He’s not sure if he’s reading the implicit threat correctly or not.

Hux considers his options quickly. Ren’s mysterious telepathy makes lying an unappealing prospect.

“Months. About six, to be exact.”

“Six months?” Shock, real shock in his voice.

“Give or take a couple of weeks when I wasn’t sure if it was just sleep deprivation.” Hux looks away from his datapad to shoot Ren a self-deprecating smile.

A pause.

“Nobody’s allowed to know. The Supreme Leader-”

“Are you going to kill me, then?”

“I- No.” Ren fires a mocking grin his way. “Not right now, anyway.”

Hux snorts and turns his head back to the datapad, unsettled by this new, relaxed side of Kylo Ren. Perhaps it’s just the novelty of being away from the Finalizer and the constant scrutiny of the crew. Or maybe it really is the release of the strain from his daemon constantly straining to hold her form.

He stands up and stretches, holding the long curve of his body still before the bed before he notices Ren looking firmly away. Hux is sure that if he hadn’t rigorously disciplined his physical reactions to his feelings for years, he’d be feeling his cheeks heat. It seems obvious now, that Ren is so disturbed by anything like comfort with one’s body. He wears a head-to-toe costume made up of so many layers it’s a wonder he isn’t overheating.

Eidothea and Mari seem to have gotten past their staring match, so Hux holds his arm out as he walks past the end of the bed, letting Eidothea sink her teeth into the thick fabric and latch onto the slightly padded material as he goes.

As she wraps herself carefully around his arm, Hux drops to his knees with a huff in front of a small cabinet on the other side of the room, and carefully peels it open, mouth twitching up into a pleased smile as his suspicions are proved correct. Complimentary drinks, nothing up to his usual standard, but it’ll do.

He brings out a bottle of what looks like whiskey, but could, honestly, be bantha piss. It’s probably worth the risk.

A calculated look over his shoulder finds Ren again staring at him, Mari now perched on his shoulder as some kind of shiny, jewel-like insect.

“Want a drink?”

 

* * *

 

Three whiskeys later and Hux is lying on his bed, stripped down to a plain black dress shirt, top button undone. He’s doing his level best to ignore Kylo Ren, who seems much more drunk than Hux himself, having kept pace with him for each drink. Ren’s relaxed slightly as well, the cloak and long tunic outer layers having disappeared somewhere. Eidothea is curled up on Hux’s shoulder, and Mari is currently a small, rodent-like creature with a truly unnerving number of eyes.

A couple of attempts had been made at conversation, mindless small talk about command minutiae that had quickly trickled off into an even more awkward silence. He’s pretty sure Ren hasn’t stopped staring at him all evening, his gaze only sharpening as the time passed.

The quiet is all enveloping, and Hux briefly considers letting his eyes close for the rest of the night. The thought has barely crossed his mind before Ren decides to bother him once more.

“ _Hux_ ,” he says, over exaggerating the vowel into an almost childish whine. Hux raises an eyebrow at the change in demeanor. Perhaps the alcohol really has gone to his head.

“What now, Ren?”

“You didn’t care about us being unsettled?”

This catches Hux’s attention, and he looks over at Ren who is lying on his side facing him, brown eyes liquid and practically trembling. He hesitates in response to this particular kind of intense emotion demonstrated only by the truly intoxicated, and takes a mouthful of his drink instead, trying to stall.

It can only give him so much time, so he hazards some polite honesty. He’s not sure that the effort he puts into his precisely indifferent tone truly hits its mark.

“If it was going to be anybody, Ren, it was going to be you.”

He doesn’t mean it as a compliment, not one bit, but Ren seems to take it as one, his expression turning smug and slightly nasty.

“What it means is that we’re not bound to anything. Not to the Jedi, not to the Sith of old, not to our _family_ -”

“You’re bound to Snoke. He’s manipulating you.” It slips out without conscious thought, stopping Ren’s gleeful rant in its tracks, and Hux closes his eyes. Self-hatred sweeps over him for a second. Whatever happened to self control? Eidothea, still on his shoulder, seems torn between berating him and preemptively going into a threat pose.

He’s not sure he’s ever actually felt the Force before now. Seen it and its unnatural effects, yes, but never felt it like this, like a blanket of pure energy pressing down on him, making his skin crackle painfully with a thousand static charges all at once. He gasps, once, at the unexpected pain of it. Mari is a pathetically small copy of the legendary Condor dragon now, snarling and hissing at them, and Eidothea manages to lunge for her, only to be batted away by nothing.

The alcohol makes him slower, but it also stokes the fury that Ren has dared to touch Eidothea, even just with the Force. _Never again, never again-_ He pushes through the weight pressing on him, through the haze, muscles heavy and non-cooperative, then sees brief surprise on Ren’s face, and watches his fist land squarely on his jaw.

The weight of the Force immediately lessens, though it doesn’t disappear entirely, as Ren seems to shake the impact off, eyes flashing angrily. His grip on the Force seems shakier than normal, which must be down to the alcohol, because Hux is expecting that invisible grip around his throat at any moment, and it’s still not coming.

Ren launches himself from where he’s still half-lying on the bed and barrels into Hux, his weight knocking him over easily. Hux’s head smacks into the floor and he groans in pain, the alcohol making his head spin. He winces as he feels claws dig into Eidothea, but he’s already trying to move, trying to get to his knees to punch Ren again, or see if he can get his hands around that throat like he’s been longing to do. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his side, he pushes himself up, but Ren is again there faster, driving a fist into his ribs. Hux gasps out a breath, but uses the proximity to aim another punch at Ren’s face, hitting his nose. The pain in his hand is a deep ache now, but the trickle of blood he sees on his knuckles isn’t his, and he grins.

Ren’s half sprawled on the floor, not even trying to get back up now, arm outstretched somewhat shakily. Hux feels a touch of solid air on his throat, but it fades away within seconds. He lets out a breath, feeling almost disappointed. Of course Ren can’t even offer him a decent fight now. All promise and no follow through.

For some reason, the thought incenses him further, and as Ren’s eyes drop to his hand, confused, he knocks the arm out of the way and drops his weight onto Ren’s hips. Finally, finally, he gets his hands around Ren’s throat, squeezing. His eyes are transfixed to the dark trail of blood running across Ren’s lip slowly.

There’s a pause, a moment of tension, and then he looks back at Ren’s eyes, fingers tightening a fraction. A not-quite-pained gasp escapes from the throat he’s clutching in response, and he pauses. The alcohol and the adrenaline and the illusion of power get to him and he leans forward, close enough that he can see strands Ren’s hair moved by his heavy breathing.

“You’re enjoying this, you bastard.”

Ren growls, cheeks pinking as he finally makes himself move, not even using the Force, just pushing at Hux weakly. Making a show of resistance.

“Is that it, Ren?” He breathes out, knowing he’s right, knowing he’s won. “You just need somebody to hold you down and fuck you, is that right?”

He still doesn’t answer, but whether it’s from lack of breath to do so or stubbornness isn’t clear. Hux raises an eyebrow and leans down further, slowly, loosening his grip ever so slightly. Ren’s motionless, apart from his eyes, which flick from Hux’s eyes to his lips and back again.

Deliberately, leisurely, Hux closes the distance and licks the blood off Ren’s lips, savouring the metallic taste and feeling himself harden. Ren’s still immobile beneath him, but now Hux can feel the tension in him, as if it’s taking a massive amount of effort to stay still. He grins, and moves his hips forward, dragging himself over Ren’s stomach, eyes fluttering ever so slightly at the friction.

It seems this is enough to finally goad Ren into action, and he grabs at Hux’s hair clumsily to pull him down into a kiss, huffing out a moan as he tastes his own blood on Hux’s tongue. He’s evidently inexperienced, but Hux finds he doesn’t care right now, as long as he keeps making those noises when Hux bites at his lower lip.

His hands have somehow moved into Ren’s hair and he uses the grip to shift himself back a few inches, pressing his ass into Ren’s covered cock to hear him gasp.

“I should have known you’d be this easy,” he breathes out against Ren’s lips, lust and alcohol distorting his voice, making it deeper, rasping slightly.

Ren actually whines when Hux touches his fingers to the bruised skin of his jaw where his punch landed earlier, and he pushes his face into the pressure.

“More, _more._ ” Hux grimaces at the demanding tone, but presses harder to feel Ren shudder and arch up against him. “ _Fuck_ , yes.”

He feels Ren’s hands sweeping up and under his shirt to press into his back, his nails digging in and sparking pleasure-pain along his spine. He feels the pressure pushing him into Ren and goes willingly, grinding down until they’re both gasping.

They settle into a rhythm and Hux feels his head spin as his hips move of their own accord, his hands again shifting to Ren’s throat to press down, hard. He gets a response immediately.

“Come on, Hux, _fuck-_ ”

It’s too much, and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close already. It doesn’t help that Ren is so damn responsive to every tiny touch.

As soon as he thinks it, Ren tenses and then shudders apart underneath him with a series of curses that Hux doesn’t recognise, going boneless, his face lax.

“Damn it, Ren,” he chokes out, rocking down harder and wringing a protesting whimper from Ren’s oversensitized body. He tucks his head down and feels Ren mouth along his neck before biting down just below his ear. It’s that that finally tips him over the edge as he finally feels the pleasure build and crest as he comes in his underwear for the first time since he was a teenager.

Hux collapses onto Ren with a gasp, mind slightly hazy with the afterglow and the alcohol. A few minutes pass, and the disgusting feeling in his underwear convinces him to move. He rolls off Ren, who’s staring at the ceiling with a content look on his face, before crossing to the small bag of spare clothes he’d brought to change his underwear.

“Hux.” The voice that reaches out to him across the room is sleepy and still awfully, obviously intoxicated. He stiffens slightly with guilt.

“What?”

“Felt good.”

Hux rolls his eyes, the usual irritation he feels around the Knight coming back in full force. What a childish comment. Alcohol can only explain so much.

“Change your clothes, Ren. Lights to two percent.”

The room darkens to the point where he can barely see Ren, which is both better and worse. He crawls into his bed, shame and regret beginning to lick its way up his insides. There’s a scuffling noise behind him as Ren fights with his clothes and then appears to give up.

The silence for a few minutes allows him to fully feel the dread of what their actions could mean, and Hux breathes as quietly as possible.

Ren’s asleep quickly, breaths evening out and deepening. Hux’s frantic thoughts eventually slow, too, as he forces himself into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Hux wakes the next morning back on his bed, but the first thing he sees is still Kylo Ren, half undressed, draped over the sheets across the room. He drops his head into his hands and sighs. His hangover is less severe than he’d like - it reveals too much about how lucid he was last night. How much he had wanted it to happen.

At least he’s woken up before Ren. He steps quickly to the refresher, Eidothea opting out in order to keep an eye on his sleeping roommate. The way their bond doesn’t tug at his heart as he leaves the room still feels unnatural, and he hates himself, briefly.

The gentle pulse of the sonic shower reminds him of endless days at the Academy, of working himself to the bone as a Sergeant, a Captain, all the way up through the ranks, always pushing harder, aiming higher. It’s only been his promotion to General that got him a true water shower in his quarters, a luxury he’s not had since early childhood. He’s too used to it now, though, and the sonic leaves him still feeling dirty even after the recommended five minute cycle.

He dresses in the bathroom, wanting to avoid Ren for as long as possible, even if he’s still sleeping (he is, Eidothea confirms). He’s not quite in full dress uniform, since there’s no need for it outside First Order, and they are trying to be inconspicuous, but he’s still in a formal black suit that is almost as good as his greatcoat for creating an appearance of mass.

Giving himself a once over in the mirror, his eye catches on a purple blotch on his neck, beneath his right ear, and he grits his teeth. Curse Ren and his lack of self control.

Hux inhales deeply, considering his options, still staring at the bruise. There’s no way to cover it up, so really his only option is to not mention it and hope Ren doesn’t notice.

Speaking of.

 _He’s waking up. Come and make him feel better._ He can feel the wryness in his daemon’s thoughts and sighs. Eidothea’s been quiet since last night, and he can’t tell whether she approves of his little tryst, though he suspects she’s probably proud of him.

_Don’t tease me._

The early morning light breaking through the transparisteel is a warm greenish colour, and Hux catches himself admiring the way it illuminates the shirtless Ren, who ruins the whole image by groaning loudly in pain, still with his eyes closed, and rolling over to press his head into the sheets.

Mari flops out from under the pillow as some kind of common bat, though on closer examination Hux sees she has no ears, presumably to alleviate the effects of their hangover in any way. He finds himself smiling at their discomfort, and turns it into a scowl.

“Ready to face the day, Ren? Our meeting with the sales advisor is in three hours.”

Ren looks up at him, face twisted with pain from what Hux smugly thinks must be a horrific headache.

“Have you never drank before?”

“Not for years,” comes the mumbled response.

“Can’t you sort this out with the Force?” Voice mocking, he crosses to his bed and sits down on the edge, feeling Eidothea’s weight crawl onto his legs.

“That’s not how the Force works,” Ren snaps out, dragging himself to a sitting position with effort. Looking at him, Hux feels a touch of warmth at the image of Ren, pale and pained, hair sticking out at all angles and still backlit by the fresh green light. He spots a couple of finger shaped bruises around his neck and feels a sudden rush of heat, remembering the feeling of Ren’s throat contracting under his hands.

Eidothea shivers, despite lying directly in the sunlight coming in past Ren, and Hux looks away sharply. The motion draws Ren’s gaze to his neck where it’s suddenly turned towards him, and the bruise that mouth left on him last night.

“Why, General.” That voice is surprisingly impassive, and Hux risks looking back, seeing how those eyes have gone dark enough to bring a slight heat to his cheeks. “I didn’t know you bruised so prettily.”

“Shut up, Ren. You’re no better off.”

He looks away, as Ren strains to aim himself towards the mirror so he can see. A moment later, there’s a sharp inhalation and Hux allows himself a small smile.

 _Planning on keeping him around?_ Eidothea asks, a stupid question.

 _Of course not._ His thoughts are vicious in their intensity. _It was a mistake, and one that won’t be repeated again._

Silence for a second in the room, and then Ren pushes himself almost violently off the bed to go to the refresher, Mari a crow cawing loudly as she follows behind him. The door slams shut and Hux winces.

Ren’s back to his old tantrums already, it seems.

 

* * *

 

The meeting with the sales advisor turns out to be in a completely different area of the city, two hours away on their speeder.

They’re still fifteen minutes early for the meeting, and they’re ushered into a small room to wait. It’s claustrophobic, with just enough room for a desk and chairs behind and in front of it.

Ren is wound tight behind his mask for some reason, and Mari is pacing up and down as best she can behind them, looking like she wants to climb the walls. It’s a strange reversal of the night before in their quarters.

“Control yourself, Ren,” he finally snaps, after five minutes of watching. Eidothea slips off him and onto the desk in front of them, curling up. It seems peaceful, but he knows she’s showing off how much more civilised she considers herself.

“Something’s not right.”

That gets his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Even through the helmet, Hux can practically hear Ren gritting his teeth.

“ _Stars_ , Ren, what’s the use of you having these mystical powers if-”

The door opens suddenly and Hux cuts himself off, almost biting his tongue.

The sales officer is a seemingly normal Chiss specimen - tall, dark blue hair, jet black hair tastefully styled in a braid down her back, and the disconcerting, glowing red eyes. It’s her daemon, however, that gives Hux pause - a large, intimidating carrion eater that shakes its feathers and clacks its beak at Eidothea when it sees her on the desk.

He acknowledges her entrance with a nod and stands up as she moves to the other side of the desk, offering his hand. She takes it with a firm grip and shakes twice before releasing him.

“General Hux. So nice to meet the commander of one of our most valued customers. You may call me Leren.” She sounds pleasant enough. Ren hasn’t moved, and he inwardly berates himself for bringing him along.

“This must be Kylo Ren.” Her observation is quiet and neutral as she looks Ren up and down, taking in the masked figure. Hux hopes she isn’t offended by Ren’s failure to obey common courtesy and introduce himself. Her eyes betray nothing as she smiles mildly.

“I understand from your communications with us prior to your arrival that you want erkinite.”

“Yes. Five metric tons. To begin with.”

There’s no indication of surprise on her face, and she leans back.

“What makes you think we even have any? We haven’t produced any erkinite products for at least thirty years.”

“I was willing to pay you a visit to find out. Like you said, this relationship is beneficial for both of our organisations.”

Her smile is a hard-edged thing, and Hux finds himself warming to her. Ren shifts next to him as he thinks it, and he resists the urge to look across at that ridiculous helmet.

“Luckily for you, we do indeed have a store of erkinite left over from the days of the Empire.” A quick glance down at her datapad and Leren looks back up, locking eyes with Hux.

“We can offer you the five metric tons immediately. Five hundred thousand credits for the full amount, with discounts available on additional purchases in the future.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be able to offer us some proof that you have the erkinite before we talk price?”

“But of course, General.” A quick tap on her datapad and she’s standing and motioning for them to follow her out of the room.

The bland, beige coloured corridors fade into one another as Hux falls into step besides her, Ren trailing them by a few feet. He seems more distracted than usual, which in turn is distracting to Hux.

The days are shorter on Kuat than the standard, and even though the sun has only been above the horizon for four hours or so, it’s already starting to make its way down, the sky darkening gradually with each viewport they pass.

They eventually reach a door with a biometric scanner, which Leren presses her hand to, allowing it to read her genetics and her vitals simultaneously. A few steps forward and they’re in a completely bare room containing only what looks like precisely five metric tons of a silver metal which shines with an oddly purple tint.

Hux tilts his head back towards Ren, who nods and steps forward, holding his arms over the metal as he throws his head back. When he hears a growling sound coming from behind, he sees Mari has refused to even enter the room, her black fur on end.

It only takes Ren about ten seconds to finish whatever kind of Force probe he’s attempting. He nods again towards Hux and steps back. It’s genuine, then.

A small smile creeps onto Hux’s face and he turns towards Leren, who’s smirking rather unprofessionally.

“As you mentioned before, the First Order is a loyal customer of Kuat-Entralla. I rather think the appropriate discounts should be made immediately. Four hundred thousand credits.”

The Chiss makes a show of thinking about it. “Let’s say four hundred and fifty.”

“Done.” They shake hands, and it’s all been so delightfully easy that Hux despairs it couldn’t have been sorted with a simple holocall.

Of course, that’s the moment that alarms start blaring all over the building.

Hux feels a hand grab his arm, and finds himself staring into the holes of Ren’s mask.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

 

* * *

 

It’s the Resistance, because of course it fucking is.

Their biggest advantage is that the X-wing pilots are usually reluctant to cause collateral damage, especially with innocents in the area, and a manufacturing planet means there’s a lot of incredibly volatile materials around. They seem to have come expecting some kind of a firefight, because there’s at least five of the ships in the sky above. It’ll only be a few minutes before they land and scout the area.

He’s sprinting down a corridor with Ren, getting glimpses through transparisteel of the X-wings zipping overhead. They seem to be slowing.

“It was that receptionist yesterday.” Ren doesn’t seem out of breath at all, damn him. “The Togruta. He contacted them.”

The noises outside are quieter now. The Resistance pilots are landing. Hux fumbles for his comm, before remembering that the Finalizer is over two hours away. One way or another, it’ll be over by then.

“The Ileenium system is four days hyperspace travel from here, they couldn’t possibly-”

Ren’s head tilts, and he makes a frustrated noise. “They were visiting Coruscant. That’s all I can get.”

They make it to the reception area of the building, which is thankfully deserted. Ren holds a hand up and Hux stops, leaning over and panting slightly. He’s in shape, yes, but sprinting full out down what felt like five miles of corridor would raise anybody’s basal heartrate.

There’s no engine noise outside anymore, which means they have at least five armed Resistance pilots searching for them. Mari slips outside, presumably to try to look around as much as she can. Ren winces and tries to shuffle closer to the door surreptitiously, looking a moment away from clutching at his heart.

Hux snorts and pulls out his blaster, thankful that he’d brought it concealed in his jacket. The scanner hums and activates as it reads his fingerprint and it powers up. He’d logged more practice hours with his rifle recently, but he was still a good shot with a pistol.

“Where are they, Ren?” Keeping his voice low, he shifts surprisingly easily into a combat stance, his mind remembering tactics. He hasn’t been in a true firefight for four years, but he’d spent more than twenty training for and taking part in them.

“I don’t know.” Ren’s voice is tight, angry.

“What do you mean you don’t- Can’t you use the Force?”

“It’s been harder since Starkiller, I thought Snoke was going to help me fix it-”

Hux gapes at him, unable to believe what he’s hearing. “And you didn’t think to perhaps mention it before now?”

They’re interrupted by Mari’s return.

“Four headed this way. Two more somewhere.”

It’s at times like these that a bird form for Eidothea could have been incredibly useful for scouting purposes. As it is, Hux makes sure she’s secure in his jacket before sealing it up.

Ren nods and heads towards the door. Hux goes to follow, when Ren turns. “Stay here.”

“Don’t be idiotic, Ren, you’ve got nothing more than a glowing sword right now if you can’t use the Force. You’ll need my extra firepower.”

“I don’t need _anything_ from you, Hux.”

“Fine.” He bares his teeth in a grin he’s been told is past manic and edging on insane. “I’m going to kill those Resistance bastards whether you like it or not. Feel free to help if you think you’re up to it.”

He pushes past Ren and outside, to take cover behind a stone bench. As cover goes, it’s not the best, but it’s enough to protect his front from a few blaster shots. A few seconds later, Ren’s kneeling beside him. They have a clear line of sight to the two corners of the building they’ve come out of, which must be where the Resistance pilots will be coming from.

“I’ll go right.”

Hux nods in response, focusing his aim to the left corner. Presumably the pilots will be in pairs.

Ren’s presence vanishes from beside him, and he listens to his footsteps fade away for a few seconds. A minute later, he imagines he can hear the droning buzz of that lightsaber firing up.

There’s no time to think on it, as the sight of a gun muzzle emerging round the corner appears in front of him. Hux holds his breath, finger twitching on the trigger. His target is just in range, about thirty five meters away and he waits, agonised and excited, for the pilot to miss him, to come around the corner.

A few seconds of deliberation and a face appears. She’s young, incredibly so, evidently only just out of whatever training school she went to. It makes her nervous, and that makes her impatient and slip up, and she emerges from the corner while still trying to spot any threats.

Hux’s finger closes on the trigger and squeezes out two shots in succession. The first one narrowly misses, but the second hits the girl in the jaw before passing through her head. She slumps to the ground, dead, cauterised wound gleaming. There’s a drift of smoke from beneath her jacket as her daemon disintegrates.

The adrenaline rush hits him in seconds and he fights to stop his hands from shaking. He could do with a cigarette right about now.

There’s suddenly a looming presence at his shoulder again and he leans back into it slightly, needing the physical touch to ground him. His back hits Ren’s knees and he sighs, eyes slipping closed for half a second.

_Don’t get distracted._

Eidothea’s voice is chiding, and for half a second she sounds like Cyra catching him staring out of the viewports instead of focusing on his work. The thought makes him shudder, and he dismisses it as quickly as he can.

When Ren does finally speak, it’s awkward and halting.

“Two on my side. They’re disposed of.”

No sooner does Ren say it than Hux can smell the fresh blood on him, primal and dizzying.

Three left.

There’s a noise behind them, coming from the building. Hux spins, aiming his pistol, as the missing two Resistance pilots fire on them, a blaster bolt narrowly missing his chest. Ren’s arm is outstretched from where he’s instinctively tried to stop the blasts, a furious shout following as he realises his mistake and ignites his lightsaber. The pilots falter slightly before it and Hux takes the opportunity to shoot one in the chest. The other falls a second later, Ren’s saber separating their legs from their chest. Their daemons have dissolved to smoke before Hux can even recognise their forms.

He turns to grin at Ren, who takes his helmet off and drops it to the ground.

There’s a brief second where he sees Ren’s eyes flick past his shoulder, but he can already hear the blaster charging and it’s too late to turn.

There’s a rush of air and something collides with his stomach, knocking him over. The blaster bolt that should have made a direct hit though his shoulderblades misses him, and Ren has already leapt over him to presumably decapitate the last unlucky member of the Resistance.

It’s all a vague awareness though, because Mari is crouching next to him, head nudging at his from where she’s crouched next to him, paler and slightly smaller than her usual form.

The taboo. Mari’s just gone and broken it like it means nothing, and if this isn’t _just_ like Ren. He’s a savage in every sense of the word.

He sits up, and Mari is moving to stand over him, but still touching, her paw nudging at his hand, more gently than he’d expect. He feels a strange mix of nerves and pleasure roiling in his gut and for a few seconds he wants nothing more than to be violently sick.

 

He pushes himself up and away from the other daemon, leaning against the wall to try and regain his composure. Kylo Ren is making some kind of choking sound and gazing, shocked, at his daemon.

Hux stares down at Mari. She’s some kind of incredibly pale cream coloured canid now, with a white belly and a dark grey stripe running down her back, bordered by black. He vaguely recognises the species, and is pretty sure they’re not normally this large - if he folded his arms he’s certain the tips of her ears would brush beneath them.

No spines, no teeth straight out of a child’s nightmare. She makes him think, more than anything, of desperation, recklessness, passion somehow. A creature born for cruel environments, for surviving in any way possible.

Eidothea, from where she’s wrapped herself around his neck for support slightly tighter than he would like, flicks her tongue out, tasting the air quickly. She hisses slightly in surprise. Ren’s now alternating looks between Mari and Hux, before he clears his throat, seeming almost shy.

“Is that it now, then?” His voice is quieter than Hux has ever heard it, worried and proud at the same time.

Just like that, the full enormity of it hits Hux.

“Is that...you’re...settled?” The words drop out of his mouth weakly, in disbelief. After all this time, _he_ is what has caused Kylo Ren to settle. It’s unbelievable.

Ren rounds on him now, marching up to Hux, and for a second Hux is worried he’s going to be decapitated by that lightsaber. He’s blown Ren’s cover, they’re not going to be able to explain it to Snoke. Never mind explain it, Snoke’s whole plan for Kylo involved keeping them unsettled, uncertain.

Instead, of the buzz and unsteady hum of that lightsaber through his chest, Hux gets Ren’s lips against his and Ren’s arms around his neck, careful not to crush Eidothea. He recovers well, and threads his hands into Ren’s hair, soft, trying to brace himself against the onslaught of Ren’s tongue and teeth trying to devour him. It’d be overwhelmingly easy to lose himself in it, to give him exactly what he wants, but it’s neither the time nor the place.

Hux draws back, unable to resist tugging at Ren’s hair to pull him away.

Ren’s the first to speak, of course, slow and halting like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask.

“Is this what it’s meant to be like?” Hux hears the unspoken questions too. _Knowing who you are? Not being torn apart by every little feeling and decision?_

Ren ask like he trusts Hux wholly to give him the truth. It’s so much pressure, all at once. Hux just watches the dark red of the sunset play out over Ren’s face for a few seconds, trying to draw the moment out, before he nods once, carefully.

“Snoke didn’t want me to find this balance. This...peace.” Ren continues, his eyes darkening with anger, contrary to his words. His scar stretches, contorting his face into a grimace. Mari trots up next to him, teeth bared in a soundless growl.

“But you helped me.”

The whiplash change of emotion, the wonder and passion laced through those four words terrify Hux more than anything else Ren could have done up to that moment, up to and including death by lightsaber. He’s not even sure how he’s helped, and he wonders for a moment if Ren is delusional, if his temporary Force weakness has pushed him over the edge. He focuses his breathing, clouds his thoughts as best he can, and nods again.

It takes him a moment to realise that this has won him Ren’s loyalty. Hux has proven himself as the provider of stability, of certainty, and Ren is so very badly in need of somebody to follow.

With Ren by his side, and intercision-loyal Stormtroopers, and Phasma leading them, Hux is suddenly sure that restoring order to the galaxy only an arms breadth away. He just needs to reach out, past Snoke, past the Resistance, and make it happen.

Hux wraps an arm around Ren, and feels a hum of warmth and theatrical disgust from Eidothea.

_You’re getting soft in your old age._

He lets her see his visions of the future: a delicate golden crown, Snoke’s head rolling across a marble floor, planets ablaze before him. Kylo Ren kneeling at his feet.

_No, I’m not._

**Author's Note:**

> Kylo: Mari - "official" unsettled form - I was imagining a mix of the monsters from Attack the Block and a species I found on Wookieepedia called tuk'ata. Settled form: a much larger than average, cream coloured, black backed jackal.  
> Hux: Eidothea - brown tree snake  
> Phasma: Valberg - komodo dragon  
> Mitaka: Taiyana - rainbow pitta
> 
> I'll probably do a post on my [tumblr](http://doctor-aphra.tumblr.com) about my reasoning behind the daemons and link it here. Any similarities to any other daemon AUs are completely coincidental!
> 
> Erkinite is an "official" Star Wars metal in the old EU, that I shamelessly stole to use here.


End file.
